


For a Moment

by exclarare



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Porn with Feelings, implied rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-29
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-09-29 21:07:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20442545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exclarare/pseuds/exclarare
Summary: He would protect you, keep you by his side, and love you with everything that he had.For a moment, anyway...Thief King Bakura/Reader





	For a Moment

**Author's Note:**

> I'll check the author's notes I originally wrote for anything pertinent, but since this was written in 2010 and published in 2011 I have my own, current, thoughts on this.
> 
> This is probably the longest one-shot I've ever written. I was only about... 17-ish when I wrote it, so expect some rough-around-the-edges writing, but I remember really trying hard to humanize Thief King and in the reader, really give him something to identify with and latch onto even if their traumas aren't necessarily the same. Reader is basically in the same boat as Kisara--pale-skinned and treated horribly for it.......... which is not the most PC thing to write about I'm realizing as I type this...... I was... young and dumb. But I did work super hard on this so I don't really want it to fade into nothingness.
> 
> My original notes: 1. Thief King IS technically OOC. What I was going for was a side of him that was never really covered in fanfiction: The part he keeps buried deep inside of him that's really tortured about what happened in his village and is self-loathing and all that stuff. That's what I wanted to show, because I'm sorry, he may be hot and all, but according to canon, Thief King is a HUMAN BEING and damn I cannot fathom a human being going through the things he's gone through and just not caring. I just think that side of him needs to be brought out by the right person.
> 
> 2\. This is based off of the MANGA ONLY, so it will not line up with events that took place in the anime. This takes place immediately before Millennium World, so it's a prequel.
> 
> 3\. This took me over half a year to write. I hope you have nothing to do, because this is over 11,000 words and it will take A WHILE for you to read.

They hated you. They all hated you.  
  
  
Why? It wasn't as if you had control over your skin color. Your mother and father were both dark-skinned like all of the other Egyptians. Was it a defect of your birth that gave you such pale skin?  
  
Either way, the townspeople wanted you gone. You were a monster whether you meant to be or not. You would bring nothing but death and illness upon your village. Not even your mother or father wanted anything to do with you. They left town without you long ago, ashamed that they created something so horrendous.  
  
Afraid of death among the empty dunes of the desert, you were forced to remain in hiding in your village. You only ventured out at night, careful that no one saw you. If they did...  
  
Well, let's just say that whether or not you were pale didn't matter to horny drunks who roamed the streets at night.  
  
Such was your life. A life of secrecy and fear. Too cowardly to take your own life or, at the very least, show your face in the daylight and let the townspeople take it for you, you lived a hollow, meaningless existence. Sleep, wake, eat, sleep. Why? What was it all for? How was your life worth living if there wasn't one person in the world who wanted you there? All you wanted was for someone to tell you it was okay to be different; that it wasn't your fault.  
  
You wanted someone to love you.  
  
No one ever did.  
  
~~~  
  
_Hunger..._  
  
That was what your mind was screaming when you awoke one day in the middle of your seventeenth winter. You slowly rose off of the ground, supporting your weight with your arms. Your long, unkempt _(h/c)_ hair fell over your face. You squinted; your eyes had long since become accustomed to the dark, rather than the light.  
  
You saw your home: a quiet, secluded alleyway that had been barricaded years ago. For what reason, you had no idea. You had cut a hole in the wooden fence so you could enter and leave, replacing the cut-off piece of wood every time you did so, so that the fence would look whole and secure to any passerby and you would not be disturbed. You had a small cloth laid over the ground, an old dingy pillow, and a blanket that together served as your bed, a barrell full of water so you could wash yourself, and nothing more. You had no awning, no walls, no protection from the rain or wind, but that was all right. You had grown used to braving the forces of nature long ago.  
  
Your eyes widened as you saw the sun, high in the sky.  
  
_Damn it!_ You should have known you would wake up around this time. There was some kind of festival in the village (you didn't keep track of such things) last night, so you couldn't go out and scrounge for food because of all the people. You couldn't risk being seen. So of course your hunger would wake you...  
  
It was distressing. You wanted nothing more than to turn on your side and fall back to sleep, but your stomach, angry with you for depriving it of nutrients, screamed at you to get up and find it some food. Still, you tried to wait it out.  
  
Another half hour later, you were forced to surrender. Cursing the organ, you stood fully and went to grab your cloak. You wrapped it around you as tightly as you could and pulled the hood over your head, hoping this would hide a great deal of your white skin. Terrified of what the end result of this excursion might bring, you stepped out of the alleyway, careful not to be seen tampering with the fence.  
  
You walked among the people of the village, being shoved occasionally without apology, but never attacked, which meant you hid yourself well. You gathered the cloak more tightly around yourself and kept your head down, praying no one would notice your white feet. You kept an eye out for any discarded food on the ground.  
  
After a few moments, you saw a half-eaten apple on the other side of the street from you, so you hastily made your way over to it, thinking of what a waste it was. You stooped down low to grab for the fruit when a tall shadow loomed over you. You froze. Had someone else who had also been hungry come to overpower you for the small morsel? The shadow lingered there for a long time, as if its owner was watching you intently. You wanted to cry, afraid the person, most likely a man, would expose you to the rest of the crowd. You trembled for several seconds, and the man stood there, watching you. And finally, after what felt like an eternity, the shadow disappeared.  
  
Relief swept over you so forcefully, it caused you to shake harder than when you were scared. You snatched the apple off of the ground and stood up quickly to rush off.  
  
That was when the worst happened.  
  
You slammed into a woman so hard that you were forced to the ground. The apple flew out of your hand and into the face of a man, whose clenched fist flew backwards into the face of another smaller man. You were fortunate that your hood stayed drawn this whole time.  
  
The large man turned on the smaller one, as if all this were somehow his fault. The two bickered and yelled at each other while the woman stood there, staring at you. Staring at your _feet_. You tensed, knowing what was coming.  
  
The woman let out a sharp scream, directing the men's attentions back toward her. She did nothing but scream and point at you, knowing who you were. WHAT you were.  
  
A freak.  
  
The large man grabbed you roughly by the arm and pulled you to your feet. This time, your hood did slip off of your head, and the moment the on-looking crowd saw your face, it went dead silent. Sparse whispers were passed between all of them, and as the news spread through the area, all the people stopped moving, and the sand settled.  
  
There was a small moment where time seemed to stand still.  
  
While everyone was taken by surprise, you jerked your arm from the large man, who you could now see had a mane of thick black hair, with a beard to match. You attempted to run down a deserted alley. The crowd sprung into action, and you heard nothing but women and men screaming insults at you, calling you a monster, a demon...  
  
They thought you were run out of town when you disappeared years ago, and, well, for "returning", you would pay.  
  
You were pulled into the crowd by many hands, and shoved toward the town center. Then everyone could see you when you were being stoned, most likely, to death. You knew that was their purpose. Anyone and everyone who could get within arm's reach of you struck out at you. You screamed and tried to fight back, but what was the use? You were so outnumbered, it was a wonder you weren't already dead.  
  
A few moments ago, someone had clenched tightly to your upper arm, and hadn't let go. Was the person holding so tightly onto you to make sure you didn't escape? You vaguely pondered this as you were shoved through the streets like an animal.  
  
Out of nowhere, your hood was roughly shoved back over your head, and before you knew it, you were yanked out of the crowd by the person who had a hold of you.  
  
They didn't stop there. You were violently wrestled to your feet (for you had fallen down with the force of their pull) and once more, practically dragged away from the angry mob, who hadn't yet noticed your absence.  
  
Turning down an empty street, the person, whom you could now identify as male by his body structure, ran at an alarming speed. Much faster than you, who could barely keep her footing. You were losing stamina, and fast.  
  
"P-Please," you could barely speak through all the panting. "S-Slow down! I c-can't take anymore!"  
  
The man ignored you and kept his pace, pulling you down into a deserted alleyway, much like the one you had attempted to escape into earlier.  
  
You tried to focus on something other than your exhaustion. His coat, for example. You wondered if perhaps he came from nobility, because that did seem like a fine thing to wear. It was a deep blood red and looked too nice for any common person to wear. Another few things to elude to his most likely esteemed heritage were the rings adorning his hand, the one that still gripped your arm tightly. They looked as though they were made of gold and they had wonderfully shiny stones in them that looked very valuable.  
  
Suddenly, the two of you had stopped. You collapsed onto the ground, thankful of the chance to catch your breath, when you realised that you were home. How did this man know where you lived? Or slept, at least.   
  
Oh, what did it matter? He just saved your life! You turned to thank him and finally get a good look at him, but the words of gratitude had barely left your lips when you saw that he had already gone. You looked down at the ground sadly.  
  
Of course, he'd be gone. That was the way it was. Not even the people who helped you wanted anything to do with you.   
  
You curled up inside your blanket, depressed, and even more hungry than you had been thirty minutes ago.  
  
~~~~~~  
POV CHANGE  
~~~~~~  
  
The man in the red coat sat on the top of a building overlooking the alleyway. _That_ alleyway where that woman slept. He violently bit off a chunk of the bread that he was eating.  
  
Why did he help her? He'd been wondering it ever since he left her alone. Not because he thought them killing her stupid. He killed people for things like looking at him the wrong way or simply because he was angry. Skin color seemed much more of an appropriate thing to murder for. People always shunned what was different, always feared what they didn't understand. And didn't he always hear folks whispering about how people with fair skin brought about nothing but destruction? And, truthfully, he should have been angry with her to begin with, because, had it not been for her, he could have had a very nice hiding spot in this village, for no one ventured into that barricaded alleyway. He should have slit her throat last night, and saved himself the trouble of rescuing her.  
  
Which brought him back to the question that had been plaguing him since noontime. Why did he save her?  
  
He knew exactly why, though he would never admit it to anyone, even himself.  
  
Something about that pale woman, when she was shivering in her pathetic excuse for a bed, crying, shunned by the world... That struck something deep inside of him, something he'd much rather stay buried. Fact is, he knew just how it felt to be her, alone and scared and taken advantage of just because of something that wasn't her fault. He sympathized, and he hated himself for it.  
  
He tossed what was left of his bread down near her. She didn't notice it, asleep as she was, but when she woke, she would see it and, no doubt ravenous, devour it. It HAD been his fault she had lost her apple earlier. If he hadn't been standing over her, watching her, she wouldn't have panicked and slammed into that woman.  
  
What really angered him was that she never struck back at the people in the village. Why did she not use the powers it was rumored that she possessed and destroy them all!? Didn't fair people have things that others didn't? Or was she defective? It didn't matter! Because of her worthlessness, he had cuts and scrapes all over him where the townspeople accidentally hit him while trying to hurt her. And not a single word of gratitude (not that he would have listened even if she HAD thanked him). He would make sure she repaid him. Even if she had naught but the clothes on her back-- Well, he would find SOME use for them. He smiled at the thought of her getting naked in front of him and handing him her clothes. The antics of others were so amusing. And when they weren't, well...--  
  
He was stuck watching her until the next caravan came into town. He had to have SOMETHING to entertain him, right? He might even come visit her for a night. Yes, he quite liked that idea. Had to receive his payment, didn't he?  
  
These were his thoughts as the sun dipped out of sight, and the land grew dark.  
~~~~~  
YOUR POV  
~~~~~  
  
The village was silent. That was always what woke you. The town was bustling all day with activity. It was loud and noisy. The silence sounded out of place, and that was why you would wake up.  
  
You rose in the same fashion you had this morning, with your arms pushing you up. You pushed your hair out of your eyes and stood up shakily. That was when you saw it. You had no sooner identified it as bread before you were on it, scarfing it without shame. Once you had finished it, you felt much better. You were not full on any accounts, but some was better than none. You sat back against the wall of one of the buildings and sighed.  
  
Another night you couldn't go out.  
  
Everyone would be on high alert now. They would all would be looking for you. They wanted you dead. They wanted the curse on their village to lift. If only you could curse them, you would.  
  
You thought back to the man that had rescued you. Was he from royalty or nobility? If you had to judge by his clothes, you would say yes. Either way, he had saved you. And why? What would he gain from saving you, of all people? He hadn't even stuck around long enough for you to thank him and ask his name. Worse than that, you didn't even know what he looked like or even what color his hair was, for he kept his face turned away from you and his head covered.  
  
You then came to a realisation.  
  
Where did that bread come from? Food didn't idly fall into your alleyway. It had to have been thrown next to you on purpose. But from where--  
  
You looked up at the roof of the building opposite you and could have sworn you saw a figure duck out of sight.  
  
Was someone watching you? You grew terrified at the thought. What if someone was watching you then and went to tell the rest of the village where you were? You shivered in fear. You stood and turned away, panicking, trying to think of a way out of town without being seen. Why, oh, why couldn't you just die and get it over with?  
  
Because you were afraid of death. Afraid of pain.  
  
_Coward..._  
  
While you were facing away, the dark figure took advantage of the defenseless position you were in and swooped down next to you, stealthily and silently. You took no notice.  
  
He clamped a large hand over your mouth, muffling your sudden screams. Your eyes widened as you felt the blade of a dagger press gently, yet threateningly, to your throat. Tears poured out of your eyes and onto his hand. He leaned in to where he could whisper into your ear.  
  
"Shhhhhh," he said, in mock-comfort. "If you swear not to scream when I release you and do exactly as I say, then you have nothing to fear. I give you my word that I will not take your life."  
  
You didn't believe him for a second, but you nodded slowly, trembling. As promised, he pulled away the knife and let go of you, but you didn't move, and neither did he.  
  
"Wh-What do you want from me?" You managed to choke out.  
  
"'What do I want'?" He said, the amusement in his voice evident. "Well, I saved your life earlier, did I not?"  
  
You tensed. This was the man from earlier? But... why? "Th-That was you...?"  
  
He chuckled, and you gulped. How could someone sound so terrifying and yet so... beguiling?  
  
"Yes, and I've come for payment."  
  
You spun to face him, outraged. You stopped short when you saw his face, illuminated by the moonlight. His shoulder-length silver hair seemed to glow in the light. He had eyes the color of amethysts and a dark, tanned face not unlike those of his fellow Egyptians, although his was marred by a triple scar down the right side of his face. And yet, despite that, he was still ruggedly handsome. He exuded an air of confidence that you yourself had never felt once in your life. The wicked smirk on his face told you he knew all too well that he WAS going to get what he sought after, whether you were willing to give it or not.   
  
You shook your head clear of such thoughts, and started in on him again.  
  
"I never asked you to save me, 'kind sir'! Why should I give you anything!?" The man's face turned from smirking and calm to glaring and angry. "I don't even know your name!" He grabbed your wrists and pinned you to the wall opposite the two of you. He didn't like being told "no" in any form.  
  
He leaned his face in so close to yours that you could feel his breath covering your face. You knew you should have been terrified and you were(kind of), but at the same time, you kind of enjoyed his closeness. You had never spoken much to anyone, and despite his current actions, this man had saved you and was the closest thing you knew to a friend. Although what he was doing now couldn't be construed as "friendly" to even the most dense of people, still... It was how you felt.  
  
He smirked again, only this time it was more of anger than of confidence. "Bakura," he told you. "It's Bakura." Your eyes widened in recognition of the name. He was that thief... "And for your information, I had the shit beaten out of me trying to help you earlier, so I expect some form of gratitude, because if I hadn't come to your aid, you'd be dead. Nothing more than a carcass, lying in the streets, for the dogs to eat and the homeless drunks to fuck."  
  
You teared up, and Bakura stepped closer to you. His body heat was comforting, in spite of what he was doing, and you felt your stomach flip.  
  
"B-But... I have nothing to give...," you sobbed.  
  
"Anything will do," he replied. He glanced around the alley, most likely seeing if he could spot anything of value. You knew he wouldn't. You had a sudden thought.  
  
"My life," you whispered. You felt him tense. "You can take my life. I'm tired of living in a world where no one wants me. Death would be so much better. So much more painless..."  
  
"Your life...?" Bakura muttered stupidly, as if he had not heard the rest. His purple eyes rose to meet yours.  
  
"So long as you promise that it won't be painful..." Your eyes filled with tears again. Sure, you weren't brave enough to end it all yourself, but you knew that the infamous Thief King could do it, and he was probably able to make it quick and painless. The pain was the one thing about death that frightened you the most.  
  
Bakura couldn't believe what he was hearing. No one had ever freely offered them their life. They always begged for it or otherwise made a fuss. But you... You wanted him to end it. You were in so much pain that death would be a sweet comfort. You were so different. So different. He couldn't stand it. You were like him, unloved and unwanted, and yet, instead of lashing out at the world and making yourself known, you sought to placate everyone around you, people who were never kind to you in the least, and remove yourself from the world, something he had thought of doing at first, too. The thought of ending the life of someone who might actually understand him made his insides rip themselves apart.  
  
"Please," you begged, not to keep your life, but to give it away.  
  
To him.  
  
His eyes darkened as he let go of your wrist and pulled out his dagger. He pressed it gently to your throat, and you closed your eyes in anticipation. You gently touched his arm, and a tear slid down your cheek.  
  
Bakura hesitated. Why? Why was this such a problem for him?! He'd killed so many people, taken so many lives. No one had ever wanted him to. He just enjoyed killing, enjoyed exacting revenge on those cursed Egyptians who had slaughtered his family, his friends. Your throat was bare, exposed, vulnerable beneath his hands. He could end it so easily, and you even told him to. So why couldn't he? Why didn't he want you to die? You'd given him so many reasons to want to kill you! He could make it all over with a flick of his wrist, and yet all he could think about doing was--  
  
The dagger dropped to the ground. You were pinned violently to the wall again as his mouth suddenly covered yours in a heated kiss. Your eyes were wide as his tongue forced entry into your mouth, pushing itself against yours, begging, _needing_ you to respond. Trembling, you tentatively slid it against his. That was all he needed. He let go of your wrists and pulled you close to him, kissing you deeper and with more passion as the two of you fell to the ground in a heap.  
  
What little air you had was forced out of your lungs when he landed on you; still, he didn't break the kiss. You were so confused, your brain such a screwy mess, and yet, the way he kissed you, with such desperation, you felt you had no choice but to kiss him back. The way he kissed you wasn't rough, by any means, and that was what confused you. That, coupled with the fact that your throat wasn't cut open and you were still alive.  
  
It was such a foreign sensation, to be kissed like that. Not that you had never been kissed before, but you had always been overpowered and kissed roughly, against your will by some drunken bastard. You hadn't necessarily consented to this, either. With the passionate way his mouth worked yours and the almost affectionate way he cradled your head in his hands, however, you were willing to forgive him that and participate until he gave you a reason not to.  
  
He pulled away from the kiss for a split second, long enough to suck in a breath, before his lips crashed into yours again. His tongue ventured out to rub against yours for a bit before retreating, coaxing you to follow him into his mouth. You hesitated. You had almost no experience in kissing, had never actually participated in it before. What if you messed up and he didn't want to kiss you anymore? Even though all of this had caught you off guard, you enjoyed being close to him and the sensations you felt with him here. You didn't want him to go... As if he could sense your discomfort, Bakura cupped your face in his hands and gently rubbed the pads of his thumbs against your cheeks. You nervously slid your tongue in to meet his. He pushed his lips harder against yours, urging you to continue, but you couldn't.  
  
You pulled away from him, frightened and embarrassed. He attempted to kiss you again, but you pushed him away, not only confusing Bakura, but angering him as well. Why wouldn't you accept him when he had so clearly offered himself to you?  
  
"Why?" You whispered, quaking. "Why are you kissing me? I don't understand..." Neither did he.  
  
"You don't want me, is that it?"  
  
You shook your head. "No, I do... I do..." Good. "I just... I'm scared." Not half as scared as he was. "I've never done any of this... of my own will... and I don't want to disappoint you."  
  
Bakura felt his face heat up in anger. Stupid. Why was he so surprised? You lived on the streets; of course, you would have been raped at some point! But why did that piss him off so badly? He felt his fury mounting, like an angry animal ripping apart his innards, and he wanted to gut the worthless bastards who had deflowered you.  
  
"You will not disappoint me," because you never could. Far too nice to say, and it would be a rainbow colored smear on his reputation, so he left that last bit out. You would not experience the despair and shame he felt as a young child where nothing he ever did was right or appreciated. At least not tonight. After years of trying to find approval to no avail, it was a wonder he didn't get the picture and retreat back to Kul Elna sooner.  
  
"Really...?" He didn't answer you, but instead leaned down to capture your lips with his once again. He forced himself not to use his tongue, to be as gentle as possible.  
  
It was incredibly difficult. He was, after all, a thief, and thereby accustomed to using force to obtain what he wanted.  
  
The end result was worth it, though. You responded to this much better than you had with the tongue. You reached up a little and grabbed his shoulders tightly and you pushed your lips back against his. His lips gently caressed yours, but he ached for more. He soon got it when your tongue ever-so-softly pushed against his lips. Growling, he opened his mouth and gladly let you in. He forced himself not to move his tongue, to let you explore the inside of his mouth and become comfortable with what you were doing. Not until you pushed against him did he set upon you.  
  
With your kissing suddenly becoming much more passionate, Bakura felt his body heat up and fill with adrenaline. Wanting you to feel what he felt, he slid his arms under your waist and pulled your lower half to his.  
  
Your stomach did several flips as a wave of heat swept over you. You wrapped your arms around Bakura's neck and pulled yourself upward so your bodies were pressed completely and totally together. He groaned and used his body to push the two of you flat on the ground, shrugging off his coats and letting them fall over the two of you like blankets to keep the heat in. It was nighttime in the middle of winter, after all, and even with all the heat you two were generating, it would be freezing when you removed your clothes. You let out a content sigh; you hadn't been this warm at night in forever.  
  
You whimpered as his tongue invaded your mouth, exploring its confines much like you did his, before sliding the muscle against yours. He let out a pleased growl.  
  
"You taste nice," he mumbled against your lips. That one compliment set your body aflame. After all, he did, too, but you were far too embarrassed to tell him such a thing.  
  
You let your hands roam his muscled chest, memorizing every dip and curve. He felt strong, powerful... He clearly had the means to be rough with you, and that he was still being gentle with you brought tears to your eyes. Needing air, you broke away from the kiss and buried your face in the crook of his neck, not wanting him to see your tears. The soft intimacy of it stunned him, and when he felt your tears, like tiny drops of dew on his skin, he cursed himself for caring.  
  
"Have I hurt you?" He asked you, pushing himself up on his arms to better see you. You pressed your palms over your face, shaking your head. He pried your hands away; you hadn't been crying heavily, like he assumed. You had wept three, maybe four tears. But why?  
  
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "It's just that most men are already done by now... They don't ever worry about me and what I feel... I never thought any man could be so gentle and considerate..."  
  
_Gentle and considerate?_ He had certainly never been called _that_ before.  
  
And when you mentioned that you had been raped again, his rage built to an all new high. The way you talked about it, it was as if you were describing something completely normal, that there was nothing wrong with it at all. How often did this happen to you? More importantly, who were the bastards that did it? He knew he shouldn't be so angry. It wasn't as if he wasn't guilty of causing others pain, but he had never fucked a woman without her consent! And the lengths you went to to keep yourself hidden... You probably couldn't even have screamed or called for help for fear of being discovered!  
  
So much pain and torment... It rivaled his own, and yet you weren't angry. When the townspeople called you a demon, a monster, a whore, and lashed out at you, you simply accepted it as if you were nothing more and deserved nothing less. Was he the only one who could see as you as a frightened, lonely human?  
  
This was wrong. He knew he shouldn't be feeling this way toward a stranger. He shouldn't be feeling this way about... ANYONE. But where else did you belong if not by his side?  
  
But not first without your consent. He couldn't let himself take you without your express permission. Even if he were to have sex with you and you never objected, it didn't necessarily mean you wanted it. You had never been given a choice of anything. Not your skin colour, your living arrangements, who your virginity went to, not even what clothes you wore. To give you a say in this most crucial of things...  
  
He caressed your pale cheek with his knuckles. "Your name...", he said in a strong, steady voice. "Tell me your name."  
  
You swallowed. "I-It's... _______."  
  
"_______," he repeated in a hushed voice. He kissed your forehead gently, lying flat against you once again. "I want to make love to you, _______." He could feel you tense underneath him. "What do you want to do?" He smirked as confusion creased your brow.  
  
"What do you want me to say?" You lowered your gaze to his lips. The edges of them were barely turned upward in a smile. You felt a strange ache between your legs when his tongue slithered out to slowly slide against his upper lip.  
  
He felt his pride swell as he saw your face darken and felt your body grow hotter. He saw the way your hardened nipples were plainly visible through the thin cotton of your dress, saw the way you pressed your thighs close together in order to quell the aching sensation he knew he had caused.  
  
Now his pride wasn't the only thing swelling.[1]  
  
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, as you had done to him earlier, and nibbled and sucked on the sensitive flesh there. "I want you to tell me what you want," he murmured into your skin, his voice thick with need.  
  
"I thought I was repaying you with my body," you said, confused. If this was what he demanded of you for injuring him, why should you be given a choice?  
  
"I, as a thief, need nothing from you," he whispered. His body was shaking, but still he must show restraint. "As a man, however, I want anything and everything you can give me. Please, just tell me I can have you..." It didn't even register with him that he was begging for something. But if it had, would he have cared? "I know you want me, too. Just tell me that you'll take what I have to give and not hate me for what I am..."  
  
With those words, you felt something blossom within you, and you no longer felt like you were fighting against the world. He was here, you both understood each other somehow, and that was all you needed.  
  
You nodded before being pulled into an embrace that forced the air from your lungs. You felt his fingers nimbly undo the laces on the back of your dress before his hands slipped the dress off of your shoulders. He kissed the newly exposed skin there as he slid the dress further down your body until it was completely off, leaving you naked. He wiped the tears from your eyes. You weren't as cold as you thought you would be. His body heat and the coats ensured you were kept warm.  
  
You felt him hesitate. You wished he would get naked, too, but he didn't. Had you already done something wrong?  
  
He sighed, thanking the gods that it was too dark for you to see his face, mottled red with embarrassment. "Look, _______...," he said, sitting up and leaving you cold. "Just forget what I told you. Forget what I said about... that..." You sighed a little, sitting up too and snuggling into his body. Despite himself, he wrapped his arms around you.  
  
"Are you ashamed...?" You asked, looking up at him.   
  
He shook his head. He should never have shown you that side of him. No one had ever seen him when he was depressed or felt bad. He had never shown anyone how tormented he was inside, let anyone know the screams he heard night and day or the anguished faces of his fellow villagers he saw when he closed his eyes. To think that a complete stranger knew him... "I am not ashamed..." He looked at you, your naked skin that reflected the moonlight. The sight heated his body again despite the cold.  
  
You looked down and closed your eyes. "Are you sure? I couldn't blame you if you were... Everyone else hated me for other things... like my skin color, as if it were my fault... They were always so--"  
  
"Enough!" You were startled by his sudden outburst. "I am already angry enough with the people of this village for your treatment. If you tell me any more than I already know, I will raze this town to the ground. I will not stop until every villager is screaming for mercy from Anubis himself."  
  
"You would kill them for me?"  
  
"I've murdered people for less than you."  
  
There was a long moment when nothing was said, nothing was done. The two of you stared at each other. Finally:  
  
"Let me love you, _______. Let me take you away from here, even if just for a moment." You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. He kissed them away. "No. No crying. Not even in joy. You've shed enough tears, I imagine."  
  
"What about you?" Your question caught him off guard.  
  
"I...," he hesitated. "I don't cry."  
  
"Everyone cries."  
  
"Not me." He pushed you onto the ground and kissed you before you could argue again. He kissed your neck and shoulders as gently as he knew how before venturing lower, trailing his tongue down onto your stomach, kissing each bruise he saw there. You tensed and propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him with confusion.  
  
He held your thighs apart with his calloused hands, and you watched as his head dipped down between your legs, and he did something that shocked you.  
  
He licked. You threw your head back and moaned. You had no idea what he was doing or why he was doing it; all you knew was that, whatever it was, it felt good. You had never felt pleasure like that before.  
  
He kissed you there tenderly before wrapping you in his lips and sucking, causing you to cry out. You covered your mouth with your hands to keep quiet. He continued in his ministrations without paying any mind to you; your moans satisfied him that he was pleasuring you well. He removed one of his hands from your thighs and slipped his index finger inside you. You bucked your hips and temporarily forgot the need to stay silent. You removed your hands from your mouth and fisted them in Bakura's hair, crying out and whimpering.  
  
Your cries of pleasure coupled with your fingers in his hair excited Bakura. He thrusted his finger in and out of you and laved your clitoris with his tongue. The leg of yours that he had let go of wrapped around him, the heel digging into his back. He pulled his finger out of you, smirking at your groan of disappointment, before leaning back down and sliding his tongue inside of you, his thumb picking up the work on your clit that his mouth left behind. Your whispered out his name and he stilled so as not to lose control and take you before you were ready. You saying his name like that was almost more than he could handle. When he did pick up the pace, he worked harder and more frantically on you, and that's when you came.  
  
He held you steady and kept up his pace as you thrashed about and cried out his name over and over. Explosive pleasure tore through you, rendering you temporarily blind to all else but Bakura. But it was more than pleasure. It was something else. Something that brought tears to your eyes, but you couldn't place it. Bakura stopped what he was doing and climbed up over you, looking you dead in the eyes, before leaning down and kissing you again. But it didn't last. A brief touch of the lips, and that was it. He wiped a few strands of hair out of your face and wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you while you trembled and came down from what was mostly likely your first orgasm.  
  
When you calmed, he laid you gently back on the ground and stood, beginning to remove the rest of his clothes. You sat up and stared, unable to help yourself, at the raw masculine beauty of him. He glanced toward you, something wild and untamed gleaming in his eyes. You blushed, not able to stop yourself from looking down at the one part that made him completely and totally male. Your face turned even redder, and Bakura smirked, sliding under his coats (that were serving as your covers) and on top of you again.  
  
You stuttered. "I... u-um... I've never done anything like this before, and I--" Bakura silenced you with a quick kiss.  
  
"It'll be all right."  
  
Keeping his eyes locked with yours, he took your hand in his and guided it to his member. You swallowed and took a deep breath before wrapping your hand around it. He exhaled and rolled his hips forward, pushing himself into your hand. You swallowed again, tightening your grip. The texture of it was strange, soft yet hard. You ran your hand down the length of it, grazing your thumb over the smooth head of it upon reaching the top. Another shuddery exhale came from within him, and he buried his face in the crook of your neck.  
  
You began moving your hand faster, up and down his shaft, slowly becoming more comfortable with what it was you were doing. Bakura began responding to it more, letting out breathy moans and thrusting his hips faster. You bit your bottom lip as you felt him lick tenderly in the crook of your neck, his hips moving faster and more frantically, when suddenly:  
  
"Stop!"  
  
You halted immediately and let go of him at the harsh demand. He sat up a little bit and panted slightly.  
  
"I want to finish this properly," he said quietly. Never before had sex affected him so greatly, nor had he ever felt the need to be inside a woman when he climaxed. He couldn't stand the intimacy of it, and hated when women clung to him and followed after him when he had finished with them. He considered actual intercourse to be a last resort, only to be done if he couldn't achieve his release through any other method. If he could ever finish without full-on sex, he would without any complaints.  
  
But with you, it was different. He had a feeling this was something that both of you needed. All you ever wanted or needed was to be loved and accepted by someone. You wanted one moment of someone looking at you with something other than hatred burning in their eyes. That was something he had wanted as a child. He had gone all of those years fooling himself into believing that he didn't _need_ love. That he didn't _want_love. He told himself that he was a survivor. That he was living to spite the Egyptians and their "great" pharaoh. But could it have been that he was really just frightened of death? Most people were, after all, but you...  
  
_"I'm tired of living in a world where no one wants me. Death would be so much better. So much more painless..."_  
  
You faced death head on, welcoming it with open arms. You were more than he could ever be. You were weak, and pitiful, and yet you _weren't_.  
  
He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to think of all of this. He'd deal with the deep thinking crap later. Right now, it was you and him, no one else. No pharaohs, no narrow-minded Egyptian fools. No one.  
  
He positioned himself on top of you, nudging your legs apart with his right knee.  
  
"Um... B-Bakura..?" You said timidly. He looked up and met your gaze. "C-Could you... be closer? I mean... Pressed up against me, like you were earlier..." Bakura blinked at you.  
  
"Are you cold?" He checked the coats on either side to make sure there weren't any holes letting in the frigid air. He found none.  
  
"No, I'm not cold," you whispered. "I just... I want to be close to you."  
  
Again, you had shocked him. Bakura snapped up to meet your gaze at words he'd never heard spoken to him. The sincerity in those beautiful eyes burned a permanent place in his heart, and he vowed to himself to never forget this moment, to never forget the one person who wanted him. He used his arms to lower himself onto you, as close as he could manage, your chest pressing into his. He softly instructed you to wrap your legs around his hips, and you did so. His heart beat faster as he realized this was the closest he'd ever been to another human being, save for his mother. He closed his eyes and felt you wrap your arms around the back of his neck.  
  
"Are you ready?" He asked. Given your past sexual history, he wanted to make sure this was completely and totally okay, one last time, before he let go. You nodded.  
  
He slid his arms under you and embraced you tightly before slowly and gently sliding inside you. You gasped at a sensation that was almost completely foreign. Yes, you had had sex before, but never like this. _Never_like _this_. He was gentle and careful as he slowly moved inside you, and it felt so wonderful. Who would have imagined that the infamous thief you had overheard so many rumors about would turn out to be so gentle and caring?  
  
"F-Faster," you found yourself breathing out. Bakura quickly complied. He thrust into your body with swift, deliberate strokes, and you moaned, unconsciously digging your nails into his back. Bakura groaned, deepening his thrusts. Your lifted your hips to meet his, grinding your clit against his pelvis. He bent his head down and captured one of your nipples into his mouth, rubbing his tongue against it, and you came undone. You cried out in ecstasy as your body gripped his, your muscles tightening. His hands grabbed yours and held on tight, but still he didn't stop.  
  
"B-Bakura!" He growled, a low, possessive sound in his throat, at the sound of his name said in such a way. He upped his tempo, letting go of one of your hands to slide his arm under your backside, lifting your hips up close to his. Again, he grinded his pelvis against your swollen nub, and you moaned loudly, begging for him to stop, saying you couldn't take any more. He nuzzled the crook of your neck again, groaning and fighting his release off as much as he could. You came again. Unable to stand the sensation of your walls collapsing around him a second time, he allowed himself to join you. He tensed, panting, and finally collapsed on top of you.  
  
You were vaguely aware of Bakura whispering your name before you fell asleep.  
~~~~  
Your eyes popped open, and you squinted at the daylight. Tiredly pushing yourself up by your arms again, you felt the warm air against your skin, and you looked down, realising your nakedness and covering up with the white blanket you found draped over you. You looked around for your dress, found it, and put it on, sleepily lacing it up and yawning. That was when you remembered last night.  
  
You looked around for any sign of Bakura, but he was nowhere around. You felt tears filling your eyes, and you cursed yourself for your stupidity. How could you have ever thought that he would stick around?  
  
...Because he was so gentle, and had said such kind things to you.   
  
But you were wrong. He had left, and honestly, you didn't blame him one bit. And you couldn't bring yourself to be angry at him. You sat and hugged your knees to your chest.  
  
"______."  
  
You blinked in confusion and looked toward the barricade. It was Bakura. He covered the hole and looked at you. You looked back at him, speechless. He walked toward you, his red coat fluttering around his ankles. He sat next to you without a word and retrieved something from inside his coat. You gasped as you saw what it was.  
  
Bakura set the food down in front of you and leaned against the wall next to you, sighing.  
  
"I know you haven't eaten much, so go ahead. Have all you want."  
  
"D-Did you steal this?"  
  
He glared at you. "If you don't want it for simply that reason--"  
  
"No, no!" You waved your hands around and reached for a piece of bread. "I just... I don't want you to risk getting in trouble over me."  
  
"I won't get caught," he said simply, folding his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. "Men who think they can run a vendor by themselves and not be robbed deserve it for their stupidity. You need at least two people, one to sell the goods, and the other to watch for thieves. Of course, none of the merchants here seem to think it's necessary. They're all imbecilic, narrow-minded, over-confident--"  
  
"Thank you," you said quietly, cutting him off. Bakura grunted in response. "But... if you don't mind my asking..."  
  
Bakura sighed and opened his eyes.  
  
"Why did you spare me last night... and why... why are you being so kind to me?"  
  
Bakura looked at you straight in the eyes. He paused, searching for the right words, a convincing lie, but could find none. Finally, he decided on the truth. He told you everything.  
  
Of Kul Elna's destruction, of his childhood, everything. He had to pause a few times, and wipe away a few of your tears before he could continue.  
  
"Hope that answers your question," he said, patting you rather roughly on the head.  
  
It did. You completely understood now. Bakura was so kind to you because he understood you. He didn't judge you or think less of you for how you looked. The general population had cast him out into the world as they had done to you.  
  
For all the terrifying things you had heard about him, Bakura was the last person you would have ever believed to be the one person to care about you. You had yet to see the bloodthirsty, maniacal thief you had heard so much about. Despite what he may believe about himself, you knew, you could see what a wonderful person he was. It was a truly amazing thing for a person who knew no kindness to show it to another.  
  
He glared at you again. "Quit gawking," he snapped. "If you have something to say to me, I suggest you spit it out."  
  
You shook your head and smiled. Bakura blushed and looked away.  
  
For once, anger and thoughts of revenge weren't on his mind. He thought maybe, just maybe, he could stay like this with you. You deserved someone you could depend on, someone who would stay by your side and love you with all his heart. Who better than him? He knew you and understood you better than any other person could hope to. And you understood him.  
  
And yet he knew it wasn't meant to be. If you stayed with him, you would be in constant danger. Even if he stopped stealing and causing trouble, he would still be hunted by others. If he brought you back to Kul Elna and the two of you lived there together, there was a chance a bounty hunter or someone similar could find the two of you there. And if they found you, and he wasn't around to protect you...  
  
He absolutely refused to endanger you like that. No, he couldn't stay with you. He couldn't keep you by his side. But he knew somewhere he could take you where you could live in peace.  
  
"There's a city on the northern border of Egypt," he began. You looked up at him, taking a bite out of an apple. ", where there are many people with fair skin like yours." He glanced at you, and you blinked, your mouth full of food. He fought back the urge to laugh. "There, people with white skin aren't mistreated. They aren't even looked twice at. You could walk the city in the daylight without having to hide your face. You could work and eat without fear of others attacking you."  
  
You stared at him, unbelieving that such a wonderful place could even exist.  
  
"I can take you there."  
  
You dropped the apple, your mouth open wide. Again, he fought back a smile. How could this one girl affect him like this? "C-Could you!?" Bakura nodded. "When?"  
  
"Tonight," he said promptly. "We'll leave when the village becomes quiet. I'll stea--... _borrow_ a horse from the stables, and we'll ride there." He began mumbling to himself. "...The ride will be five days and four nights, so I'll need to go around and take the proper amount of food and...," he trailed off. He closed his eyes and counted off all of the preparations he needed to make, forcing himself to focus on the journey and not how he would feel after he left you.  
~~~~  
  
You excitedly pulled your cloak around your shoulders, slipping the hood over your head. Bakura had left about half an hour ago to do a quick sweep of the village, to make sure there was no one out of their houses and that your path to the stables would be free of conflict. You looked around the alley. At your small bed with the thin, torn blankets and dingy pillow, at your barrel of water. This was the last time you would ever stand here. The last time you would ever have to hide or cower from anyone. The thought was liberating.  
  
Bakura pushed in the fake boards covering the hole in the tall wooden fence and ducked in, not bothering to replace them. There was no need to anymore.  
  
"You ready?" He asked, beckoning to you. You nodded and walked over to him. You reached for his hand and he hesitated for a second.  
  
"Please," you said quietly. He mumbled something under his breath and took your hand. You squeezed it tightly and walked with him.  
  
It was a quiet, tense trek through the town. Here and there, a stray dog would approach you for food or something, but Bakura discreetly shooed them off. Other than that, nothing really happened.  
  
After the two of you had been walking for a good ten minutes, you whispered to Bakura, "Where exactly are the stables?"  
  
"On the edge of the village," was his reply. "Now, I suggest you be silent. If we're discovered, I'll have to get violent, and you wouldn't want that, would you?"  
  
You held tighter onto his hand and stepped closer to him. He squeezed your hand reassuringly and quickened his pace. It was then that someone rounded the corner of a street ahead of you and began walking directly towards the two of you. Bakura glanced around quickly for a road to duck down, but none were close enough to get to without being seen. He thought at first to just keep walking by him and have you lower your hood so your identity wouldn't be revealed. But so much for that plan. The man had a torch with him, and seemed to be alert and attentive. No doubt if either of you tried to walk past him, he'd ask for your identities.  
  
_Damn it,_ he cursed to himself. _Don't tell me they're so intent on capturing her that they have nightly patrols now._ A day ago, that would have angered him, because it would have made his job more difficult. Now, though, things were different. Your life was more important to him than some stupid theft. He had to get you out of here and to that city. He _had_ to. And he'd be damned if he let some spineless man with a torch get in the way of that.  
  
He reached for the dagger inside of his coat, then froze. He couldn't kill the man. Not right in front of you. He retracted his hand and backed against the wall, into the shadows. He put you behind him, so your skin wouldn't give you away, and waited. The man grew closer, and closer, and closer. He felt you begin to shake behind him and he caressed your hand that he hadn't let go of.  
  
You whimpered, and the man with the torch stopped short. Bakura pushed you further back into the wall of the building. You started shaking harder, and he hated how he felt when you were like this.  
  
"Who's there?" The man called out. Bakura reached into his coat and gripped the handle of his dagger, preparing to use it if need be. He'd cover your eyes, or tell you not to look.  
  
He stayed completely still, didn't move a muscle, though he could still feel you trembling behind him. The man stayed still for a moment, then kept going. Bakura relaxed more with every step the man took away from the two of you, and released his weapon. When the man took another corner, Bakura stepped out of the shadows, but you didn't move. He turned back to look at you, and you were staring at him with wide, tearful eyes.  
  
"I-I'm... sorry," you stammered, tearing your gaze from his but not changing your facial expression. "I was j-just so scared... and because of me... we.. w-we almost..."  
  
Bakura walked back toward you and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close and kissing you on the forehead. You started to cry.  
  
"I'm sorry, Bakura..."  
  
"Don't apologize," it came out sounding rougher than he intended, but he meant it. What use was there in you apologizing for something you couldn't help? He was a fighter, but you weren't. You were a frightened girl, and that's why he was here. You wouldn't survive without him. If he hadn't been here to take you away, how long would it have been before they found you in that pathetic hiding spot? They would have dragged you out and tortured you before killing you like an animal. The very thought made him hold on to you tighter. "Even if he had discovered us, we would still have escaped."  
  
"But you told me to be silent, and I didn't listen... I'm a fool."  
  
"Enough of that. You're smart and clever. You wouldn't have lived this long if you weren't."  
  
"I don't want to have to live like this anymore," you whispered, holding on to his red coat tightly. "I want to be free..."  
  
"And you will be, once we get you out of here. And once I get you to that city, you'll be able to live like any other person. I promise."  
  
"And you... You'll be there with me?" You looked up at him hopefully.  
  
Bakura's heart gave a painful squeeze as you looked into his eyes. Gods, how he wanted to. But he couldn't. He couldn't. He _couldn't_, and he couldn't stand that. The thought of going back to his life before you were in it made him want to curl up in a ball and just stay like that forever. But he was stronger than that and he wouldn't risk causing you more suffering than you'd already endured. He knew he was about to hurt you, but you needed to know from the start what his plans were. If he lied to you and left later, it would only hurt you more.  
  
He pried your hands off of his clothing and shook his head. "No, _____," he said quietly, and he saw a light go out of your eyes. "We can't stay together. Assassins and bounty hunters follow me wherever I go. You would never be safe. We would always have to hide; it'd be no different than the life you're leading now."  
  
Your eyes welled up again and you grabbed his coat, keeping a firmer grip on him. "But I don't want you to leave me!" Bakura fought hard to remove your hands from his jacket with no success.  
  
"I'm a monster, _____. You wouldn't even want me to escort you there if you had any idea the things I've done to other people for absolutely no reason!"  
  
"I don't care! I love you, Bakura!"  
  
Bakura froze, his heart nearly stopping. He looked at you right in the eyes. There was no lie there. He felt his body grow cold, the words you had just spoken to him ringing in his ears. He watched the tears fall down your face, the desperation for him clear in your eyes and it made him want to cry.  
  
He suddenly ripped your hands away from his clothes and turned away from you, his coat swaying with him. You reached for him, but he walked forward without you.  
  
"No, you don't," he said, his voice cold and harsh. "And I don't love you. Now hurry up, or I'll leave you behind."  
  
Despite his warning, you couldn't bring yourself to move. His rejection went like a knife through your heart. You thought, with everything the two of you had been through, how you understood each other, and how passionate the two of you had been together, that he felt the same way. You had been certain, and that's why...  
  
Your body shook with your crying as you slowly walked after him. "I'm sorry..." You whispered to him.  
  
Bakura despised himself more than he ever had, and his self-loathing grew with each step he took, each sob he heard you give. He wanted to turn around and hold you to him again. He wanted to kiss you, make love to you until you were both too tired to anymore. He wanted to tell you that he had lied, that he loved you too. He wanted to live in a world where he wasn't hunted by the pharaoh's men or anyone, so that he could take you away with him forever.  
  
What was so great about love that people killed for it? All it did was make him hurt and ache for something he could never have.  
  
And that something was you.  
  
As Bakura rounded a corner ahead of you, you lagged behind, afraid to get too close. You weren't afraid of him, really. You were afraid of the way you were feeling; this pain was of a different kind you had never experienced, and you thought you much rather would deal with physical pain. You were foolish to believe he loved you. You were foolish to allow yourself to love him. You deserved this pain. That was all you could think to yourself.  
  
You quickened your pace before Bakura scolded you for staying behind. You didn't want to hear his voice, didn't think you could bear it. He had held you so close, so intimately, and the moment he heard how you felt about him, he pushed you away as quickly as if he had discovered leprosy. Why? And that was the question for which you wanted no answer.  
  
You fell in step behind him, wondering to yourself if maybe you'd have been better off if he had left you to the angry mob. You turned another corner and followed him down a long street. What was done was done. You were alive because of him and there was no changing that fact. And you would be spending the next few days alone with him on your way to this city he had told you about, so you needed to settle things. You needed to apologize for whatever it was you had done.  
  
"Bakura," you started off quietly. He immediately froze, and you almost ran into him. You paused, wondering how to put it. "I… I'm sorry…" You hadn't stopped crying, and your voice wavered. "I should have just kept quiet. I should have known better than to think…-- Because what man would ever want to hear such a thing from something like me? I should have thought it through, but I was so upset, and--"  
  
"The stables are just ahead," he said quietly. You silenced yourself, and felt your heart sink lower when he didn't continue to speak, but began to walk instead. You walked after him, and you could see the vague outline of what looked like a lopsided barn with an attached house coming into view. You were afraid, and wanted to tell Bakura, but you doubted he would comfort you the way he had earlier, so you kept quiet.  
  
Keeping your fears and emotions all to yourself, without expressing them to a soul… That was the way you grew up, and you were used to having to do it.  
  
The two of you approached the stables together. When you were finally upon them, Bakura turned to you and leveled you with the same cold stare he had when you first met, and it froze you all the way to your soul.  
  
"Stay out here," he told you, glancing up at the house of the one who owned the barn and horses. "If you see a light come on inside, come tell me. If you go in now, you'll just make the horses nervous." With those bitter words, he creaked open the door of the barn just wide enough for him and slipped inside. No sooner had he disappeared from view than you heard a loud whinny from one of the horses inside, making you jump.  
  
You looked at the windows of the house. Nothing. You were shocked that horse didn't wake up half the village. Your heart beat like a drum inside your chest, and you were certain it was going to bust through your ribcage. You turned away from the house and back toward the stable. What was taking Bakura so long? You thought for a moment you heard his voice inside, but you couldn't be certain. Another loud breigh from a horse.  
  
Then white hot pain pierced your lower back, and you could only scream. Something was inside you, slicing you, a physical pain to accompany the grief you were already feeling. It was retracted, and you were pulled back against someone. They whispered something into your ear and spat on you, but you couldn't hear them. You could only feel. Feel the blood dripping out of you, the man's breath on your neck, the complete agony that clouded your vision with tears and your hearing with a strange ringing.  
  
A flash of red, Bakura was suddenly there. He was there, and with a roar, he pounced on your attacker. With nothing to hold you up, you collapsed face-first into the dirt, sobbing and writhing and shrieking with pain. You heard Bakura cursing the man, heard your panting and crying, heard your attacker's screams that seemed to echo into eternity, and suddenly, you were the only thing making noise.  
  
"You pathetic excuse for a man!" You heard Bakura scream at the assailant, and then he went quiet. You heard a small thud and you were lifted off of your stomach and flipped over. You cried out in pain and looked up into Bakura's eyes, those beautiful violet eyes. The look in them accompanied with his whispered "no" terrified you. You coughed and tasted iron.  
  
"I'm scared…" It came out as a hoarse whisper. "Bakura…"  
  
"It's fine. You're okay…," he said, his voice breaking as he brushed your hair away from your eyes. He looked away and bit his bottom lip.  
  
You smiled bitterly. "It's that bad, huh?" He started shaking and embraced you tightly. You yelped.  
  
"No! You're fine!" He pulled away from you and looked at you, clearly in his own kind of agony. "I promised I would save you… You have to live! You have to! Otherwise, what's the point of me even--"  
  
"I'm cold…"  
  
You were cold… Bakura tried to lie to himself, tell himself it was just the night air, and covering you up would solve the problem, but he could tell. There was a shimmer in your eyes that was slowly fading, your skin becoming even paler than before. Your blood covered his hands, and no amount of pressure or staunching would save you.  
  
He was going to lose you.  
  
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes as he saw your eyes beginning to shut. His bottom lip trembled and he shook his head. "_____, please…" You were the only reason he would ever beg for anything. "Please don't go… I don't want to be alone again."  
  
"I'm sorry," you whispered to him again. "For earlier, what I said… But… did you ever care about me? Just a little?"  
  
"Didn't you realize?" He shook you gently. "You're the only person I've ever been able to care for! I only kept you away because I didn't want to hurt you!"  
  
"Would you have stayed…?"  
  
"Of course I would have," he lied. "As long as you wanted me to, I would have."  
  
"Even though you don't love me?"  
  
He stared at you for a moment. "I love you, _____," and by admitting that one truth, his heart shattered. "You're the only human being I ever will love, and the only solace I have in your death is that you'll finally be at peace." Even though he never would be.  
  
Your eyes opened and you gazed into his for a moment, and you had that beautiful light in them again. And then you smiled at him, and he thought that he had never and would never see anything so beautiful again.  
  
And then the light went out, your eyes shut for good, and you fell limp against him.  
  
~~~~~  
Bakura POV  
~~~~~  
  
Was it raining…? No, those were just the tears streaming down his face. It had been so long since he had cried, he had forgotten what it felt like. He tried to hold it back, but it only made the back of his throat ache, and the tears didn't stop. The dam he had built inside of himself so long ago had started to crack since the moment he laid eyes on her, and had finally burst apart with her death.  
  
He patted her left cheek gently. "_____," He whispered. "Open your eyes…" He had to keep trying. "Please…" He couldn't give up. "Look at me!" Because admitting she was dead would prove once and for all that all he was good for was killing.  
  
She had almost died in town because he had frightened her while she was looking for food.  
  
He had almost slit her throat wide open because he had a few bruises on his body.  
  
And now she really was dead because he hadn't been careful enough with the horses and had waken their owner.  
  
He couldn't save her. He had tried so hard, but in the end, he may as well have killed her himself.  
  
He shook his head, unwilling to believe it. He put pressure on the bleeding wound in her back. "I can fix you…" He would bring her back, and he wouldn't let her out of his sight ever again. That was what she wanted, anyway, wasn't it? He pressed his left ear into her chest, listening for any sign of life, any sign it wasn't over.  
  
He heart screamed out in denial, and he pulled her close to him again, squeezing his eyes shut, forcing more tears out. How could this have happened? How could he have let this happen?  
  
How could the world take such a beautiful person and mutilate it the way it did to ______?  
  
The tears stopped, and his eyes slid open slowly. He thought of all the things that she had been put through. Her parents' abandonment, the town's loathing, the rapes, the attacks, the seclusion, the murder, and the grief in his heart was numbed by the anger he suddenly felt.  
  
He screamed out in anguish and rage and something burst forth from the very depths of his soul, taking physical shape. Truthfully, Bakura didn't notice it until he heard its great roar. He turned and saw behind him a giant monster, unlike any he had ever seen. His eyes widened and he scooted back, holding ______ against him protectively. At the same time, he felt something connecting him and this beast, and he suddenly knew instinctually that it was his. It was him; he was it. It was his _ka_.  
  
_Diabound._ This monster was his to unleash, and he knew it meant him no harm.  
  
The wind whipped around him and he had but to think of the annihilation of this disgusting village of murderers before it was upon him. Diabound was everywhere. He smashed buildings. Grabbed villagers and ripped them apart. Somehow, a fire had even started, and it spread through the city, burning anything flammable, and Bakura relished in the screams of those consumed by the flames. They got everything they deserved, and he hoped their last thought was that ______'s curse had set this monster upon them.  
  
But it was over far too soon, and soon the crackling flames and his own laughter were the only sounds to be heard. After what seemed like ages, his laughter finally died off and he stood in the middle of the wrecked village, ______ cradled gently against him. The twisted smile faded, to be replaced with a look of confusion as he saw tiny orbs of light emerge all over the village and rise into the air, and he immediately knew they were the souls of the villagers, probably visible to him now because he had unlocked his _ka_.  
  
He was temporarily blinded as one passed directly in front of his eyes, rising toward the sky. He felt his heart unfreeze again as he realized whose soul that was. He reached for it, but his fingers passed right through it. He extended Diabound's arm and was relieved to see it grasp ______'s soul between its fingers. He pressed Diabound's hand into his chest, forcing her soul into his body, trapping it within him, because he refused to lose her. He refused to ever live without her again.  
  
He screamed out utter agony, swearing that his body was ripping apart. He felt his body being punched, kicked, slapped, starved, and violated before experiencing the briefest moment of pleasure, before a searing pain made itself known in the small of his back. It sliced, twisted, and stabbed, and then he felt nothing but incredibly sore before he was hit with a barrage of emotions. Despair, shame, fear, and when he felt the tremendous surge of love, he had to fight hard to hold back his tears. To think that someone had felt this away about _him_, and he hadn't even deserved it!  
  
He held her shell of a body against and kissed her forehead. He glanced up at Diabound and was immediately lifted up and onto its shoulder, and with Bakura's silent command, it moved quickly in the direction of Kul Elna, where he began to bury ______. He took one last look at her beautiful face before he blanketed it with earth. He had her with him now, and even though he would never see her again, would never tell her he loved her again, would never feel her touch again, he had her essence, and he had her memory. He would draw on the love she felt for him for strength. He would never forget how she longed to stay by his side.  
  
_"I want to be close to you…"_ She was now. But it wasn't the same as seeing her smile. It wasn't the same as hearing her voice, her laughter…  
  
Frustrated, he turned in the direction of the capital and screamed out.  
  
"How much more will you destroy before you're satisfied!?" He bellowed before falling to his knees. This was all caused by the intolerance the Egyptians all possessed. They couldn't stand anything that was different from them. That was the reason for ______'s ruin. That was the reason for Kul Elna's ruin. The pharaoh had needed those damned Millennium Items, and chose _his_ village to slaughter for them simply because he couldn't accept their way of life.  
  
That damned pharaoh…  
  
…was dead now.  
  
That's right, he had recently died, hadn't he? Some sort of illness… and now his son was to be coronated. No doubt he was just like the evil man before him.  
  
He would do.  
  
Bakura stood slowly, determination shining bright in his eyes. He was going to make it stop, and he was going to make it stop now. He would destroy Egypt, and it would begin with the new pharaoh and his six priests. For Kul Elna. For _______. For himself. He was going to put them down like the dogs they were.  
  
He walked toward the back of the village, where he knew he had an extra horse tied up. Diabound vanished, returning to the depths of his soul, but not for long.  
  
He mounted the horse, kicked its belly, and sped off toward Cairo.  
  
Toward the end.  


_The moon, for which I think of you,  
The sun, for which I tell you,  
I pray the day should come where we can meet again,  
But until then,  
Goodbye_

**Author's Note:**

> [1] This line was added as a dare, which is why it's so ridiculous. Sorry lmao. A sequel is(and has been for a while) in the works.


End file.
